I put my hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”
He shrugs me off him, sending me a warning look over his shoulder.
I back off, only because we’re in public. I hate seeing him this angry, whether he’s putting on a show for the Heights or not.
“Did you talk to everyone?” Mag asks.
Oscar slowly turns. His hard mask is on, the one that grows wary when we’re alone, but is stuck messing up his perfect features when we’re anywhere else. “People are afraid. First Kyla, now Farmingham.”
“K will make it right. He always does.”
I can only imagine what that means. More bloodshed. Bringing someone in and killing them at the dinner table like he did with Dunnegan. Shooting someone point blank in the face. Someone will pay for taking out Farmingham. That’s how Big Daddy K runs this place.
Oscar starts to walk away. His bike is parked up ahead, pulled right up onto the sidewalk.
“Where are you going?” I call out.
“Someone told me my mom is passed out a couple of alleys over. I have to get her and drop her off at home. Is that okay with you, Princess?”
My blood boils underneath the surface. I stalk after him, calling out over my shoulder. “I’m going with Bat.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Mag says, jogging up to meet me by Oscar’s bike. “What are you doing?” he whispers, gaze darting around.
“Oscar needs help, so I’m going with him.”
Oscar looks at me with a challenging stare, eyebrow raised. He wants me to come with him. He’s practically salivating for it even though he’s trying as hard as possible to look aloof.
“Johnny…” Mag starts.
“I’ll deal with Johnny,” I tell him. He told me Oscar and Mag are watching over me. I’m sure he didn’t mean like this, but I’m not technically wrong. Besides, before the fight that never happened, Johnny was getting used to the idea of other people around us. I suspect he was even beginning to like it. I don’t know what a month of being isolated with his father has done to him, but I don’t think he’ll freak over this. Oscar is perfectly capable of taking care of me. “I’ll see you guys later?”
Brawler and Mag both look resigned as Oscar holds a helmet out to me. His sly grin jumps as I slide in around him. I pull him tight, tight enough that he expels a breath. “Remember where we are,” I breathe.
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Just to look for your mom and then back to the tower,” Mag orders.
“Yeah, Pops,” Oscar says, his chest rumbling with laughter at the look Magnum sends his way. “He’s touchy,” Oscar says to me as he starts the bike, the engine gunning to life underneath us.
“It’s hot as hell,” I deadpan, sliding my gaze to Jacob’s.
“Hold tight, Princess. I’ll show you hot.”
Oscar takes off, shooting down the dead city streets. People are likely staying in after what happened to Farmingham. No one wants to be the next easy victim.
A sickening feeling twists my gut. Farmingham had to be sleeping in the warehouse. I wonder if he was homeless. Or if he was just trying to escape something.
But also, who knew he was sleeping there? Or was someone following him?
A lot of unanswered questions flip through my brain as Oscar hits the side streets. He slows as we keep our eyes peeled for his mom. She wasn’t the nicest person the last time we met. In fact, she straight up scratched my face, but that was the drugs in her system. I don’t know what we’ll find today, if we find her at all.
The first couple of alleyways are a bust. There’s nothing. No one is out and about, except for a few homeless men living in cardboard boxes lined with newspaper. Oscar bypasses them, the roar of the motorcycle kicking up around us and echoing back tenfold as the noise bounces between the buildings surrounding us.
“Fuck,” Oscar roars. Under my hands, his heart beats fast, pounding out a frantic rhythm. Now that Gregory has retreated, I wonder what’s happened to her. The streets are worse than the upstairs room in Candy’s. If she’s here, maybe she isn’t being prostituted out anymore. That should be a relief, but somehow, it doesn’t feel that way.
Oscar guns it, and I hold on tight, my arms snaking around his abs to get a better grip. He takes a few more turns before we slow in front of a corner grocery I